


Over Our Garden Wall

by yukisadah



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Swap, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:36:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukisadah/pseuds/yukisadah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wirt and his older brother, Gregory, find themselves wandering through the dark woods of The Unknown without any knowledge to how they have gotten there. As they try to make their way home, the boys meet a range of different characters and get into many different situations, all while trying to avoid being caught by the dread Beast. Age Swap AU, with younger brother Wirt and older brother Gregory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Old Mist Grill

**Author's Note:**

> Finally had an idea for this series. This took me so long to write out. God.

Night had fallen, overtaking the breathless Autumn-draped forest in a tidal wave of darkness. The warm colors of the Fall season lay hidden beneath a firm layer of inky blackness, fog rolling over the dark and chilly path. The sun had set hours ago, leaving the mysterious forest of the Unknown even more discombobulating and without any hope for navigation than it was during the day.

Crickets and bugs played their quiet tunes throughout the woods, tall trees looming over the beaten and worn path two boys walked upon. Somewhere above them, a bird flew off, traveling through the foliage in the darkness of the evening.

“Maybe Giggly? Oh, or Jumpy! Tom? Thomas Tambourine Legface McCullen! No? Hm, Artichoke? Penguin? Pete? Steve? That’s one everyone uses all the time!” a voice cut-through the gentle song of the woods, the two boys walking side by side through the dark forest. The taller of the two, a pleasantly plump boy with combed brown hair, chattered on, “Well, I think the very worst name possible for this frog we found is--”

“Uh, wait, wait, wait a second,” the other child cut-in, a good few heads shorter than the first. Placing his hand on the other’s leg to catch his attention, the younger of the two looked around worriedly, “G-Greg...where are we?”

Darkness hide everything around them, tall gangly trees appearing as if they had arms and horrifying expressions, ready to swoop down and steal you away. In a tree trunk, an owl hooted, cutting through the relatively peaceful and familiar songs of the night. Red eyes glared down at the children, animals chattering amongst themselves, as if planning to do horrible things to them. It was more than enough to make the younger child nervous.

“Well, that’s easy! We’re in the woods,” the elder replied simply, petting the frog he held in his hands. He appeared completely nonplussed by their situation, perfectly at ease in the dark and seemingly dangerous forest.

“No, no, I mean...what are we doing out here?” the slighter of the two questioned, tearing his gaze away from the burning red eyes and giving their surroundings another once over. He did not like this one bit! Where were they? When had they gotten here? Nothing around looked familiar, and to be honest, his older brother was the last person he wanted to get lost in the woods with.

“We’re walking home, Wirt!” Greg had replied cheerily, gesturing around them as if there was nothing wrong with their surroundings.

Wirt was the complete opposite of his brother, both in personality and appearance. Where Greg was short and plump, Wirt was lean and wiry. Greg saw the good in every situation, often completely oblivious to the dangers of a situation, while Wirt was serious and academically inclined, more pessimistic than optimistic. It wasn’t really a secret that the younger child was not the biggest fan of his older brother, and his frustrations with the other’s lack of care for their situation was apparent as he tore at his hair.

“G-Greg, I think we’re lost!” he exclaimed, spinning around himself again. Nothing here looked familiar, nothing at all. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be back home right now! Swishing around his navy blue cloak, the child lamented, “W-We should have left a trail or something, like in _Hansel and Gretel_!”

“Oh! We can leave a trail of the candy from my pockets!” Greg cut-in, cheerful as ever as he pulled out some candy and threw it around the area.

If it were any other situation, Wirt would comment on how childish his brother was acting right now, and how the other really needed to act more his age. At the moment, though, he was more focused on how lost they were. Heck, Greg didn’t even know where they were! If Greg didn’t know, Wirt certainly didn’t. The mousy brown-haired boy was the more introverted of the two, and often spent the majority of his time indoors. If anyone would know the woods well, it would be Greg, and if Greg didn’t know, well...that was Bad.

Feeling slightly panicked, the boy let out a small sigh and started reciting poetry to calm himself down, a habit he had picked up in the recent year through his reading, “Even though I am lost, my hurt pride lies back home, in pieces, thrown around the graveyard of my lost dignity, for only--” he began, only to stop at a dull thud sound repeating somewhere close by.

Letting out a quiet gasp, the boy glanced around, “Do you hear that…?” he asked his brother, following the sound without a second thought. Maybe there was help over there!

Having been listening to his brother’s monologue, Greg blinked back into focus and followed after his younger sibling, “Yeah! Sounds like someone is playing with a ball or something,” he commented, trying to move a bit ahead of his sibling. He was supposed to be the leader, after all. The older brother who leads his bookish younger sibling around on adventures!

“Do you think it’s some kind of scary guy with an axe waiting out there in the darkness for innocent kids like us to come by so he can attack us?” Wirt spoke quickly, peeking out from behind the tree to peer into the night towards the source of the sounds. The darkness did tend to make him nervous, and the constant sounds did nothing to quell his overactive imagination.

“Hmm...as the older brother, I’ll go check!” Greg smiled brightly, rushing forward into the blackness.

“G-Greg!” the younger called out quietly, trying to stop his older sibling from marching towards almost certain doom, “Greg!”

An animal chirped nearby, jolting the young boy a bit as his eyes rolled around, searching for the source of the noise. Letting out a nervous sound, the child raced forward, following after his brother, “Greg, you’re gonna get us killed, don’t leave me alone!” he hissed, stopping behind another tree with his handful of a brother. He didn’t get paid enough for this, heck, he didn’t get paid at all!

“Hmm,” singing close by cut the child off, both boys’ finding their gazes locked onto the figure of an older male beyond the safety of their hiding place behind the tree. Letting out a gasp, Wirt stepped back a bit, watching with wide eyes as the old man sang to himself.

A small lantern burned brilliantly on the stump of a nearby tree, the man bending down to pick up the little twigs and branches from the fallen trunk behind him. An axe sat wedged into the wood of the tree stump, ominous in the sparse lighting.

“We should ask him for help, I’m sure he knows where we are,” Greg suggested, moving to step over the tree roots.

“No!” the younger of the two exclaimed, grabbing onto his brother’s arm, “We really shouldn’t ask the crazy old man with an axe for help,” he reasoned, frowning hard at his sibling.

“But-” the other started, making no move to shake the much smaller boy off of his arm.

“Shh, he might hear us!” Wirt cut-in, glancing nervously at the axe once more. No, he was not going to be attacked by a crazy old man tonight, no thank you!

“Then you shh, too!” Greg narrowed his eyes in slight annoyance, having had enough of his younger brother telling him what to do. There was absolutely nothing wrong with asking that old guy for help!

“Shh!” the other countered again, making an attempt to tackle his brother to the ground when he was returned with another loud hushing sound. They were gonna get caught with all of this stupid noise!

Once again, the old man’s singing cut them off, both boys turning to watch as the man and his lantern grew dimmer and dimmer the further away they walked, the darkness now more of a comfort than something to fear. Greg had his hand covering Wirt’s mouth, the younger boy’s shorter arms reaching to cover his brother’s as well, neither making a sound as they made sure that the man had gone.

It was only when the man had completely disappeared from sight that Wirt dared to speak up again, “Oh, shoot...do you think we maybe should have asked him for help?”

Greg gave a shrug in reply, not bothering to point out he had originally been planning to ask the old man for help in the first place. He didn’t really want to get into a fight with his little brother, and bringing up that fact would probably spark a conflict with Wirt.

“Hey, I can help you. I mean, you guys are lost, right?” a female voice cut-in from behind them, causing the two boys to turn towards the source.

Upon a branch on the tree the boys were hiding behind sat a small bluebird, looking down at them with a sort of pitying look.

Wirt let out a little gasp, rubbing his eyes as if to make sure what he was seeing was really true. Next to him, Greg let out a sound of wonder and smiled broadly. The younger of the pair glanced up again uncertainly, gasping again as he saw it wasn’t an illusion, “W-What is going on?”

“Uh, well, you were rubbing your eyes, and I’m answering your question, and--” the heavier of the two responded, a hand on his hip as he held his pet frog close.

“No, no, Greg, I mean...birds aren’t supposed to talk! That kind of stuff only happens in storybooks and fairy tales, not in real life,” the child responded, turning to address his elder.

“Hey, I can assure you I am completely real,” the girl hissed out, looking annoyed that the other had seemed to suggest she wasn’t real.

“U-Uh, I-I mean, I-I’m just saying...you’re really weird!” Wirt explained, moving his arms as he spoke nervously, “L-Like, not normal, I mean, oh my gosh, I should just stop talking to it,” he mumbled, ignoring as his brother gave a piece of candy to a little turtle passing by. It’s not like the child wanted to insult the weird bird-lady, but she was just, well, weird! Animals didn’t talk, they weren’t supposed to. Animals only spoke in those stories for little kids that he used to have read to him before he learned to read himself.

“‘It’?” the bird repeated, seeming even more annoyed than before.

“U-Uh, I--” the child rushed to fix himself, always afraid of having others annoyed with him. He was so engrossed in his stuttering that he didn’t notice as Greg stuck a piece of candy to his cloak, snickering to himself as he admired his candy-work (Ha! That was a good one! He would have to remember that for his pun book back home!).

“What are you doing here?” a voice cut-in once more, lantern light spilling over the pair of boys, causing Wirt to let out a girly shriek and hide behind Greg, “Explain yourselves!”

“And I’ll see you guys later, bye,” the bluebird dismissed, turning around and flying off before the woodsman could address her properly.

“Aw, now calm down mister Old Man, we were just passing through!” Greg replied with a smile, not at all frightened by the sudden confrontation.

“Y-Yeah, w-whatever you’re doing is y-your own business, we just wanna get home without any trouble,” Wirt called out from behind his brother’s larger stature, peeking out at the frightening figure before them.

“These woods are no place for children,” the man started, narrowing his eyes at the pair of kids, “Don’t you know The Beast is afoot here?”

“‘The Beast’? Who’s that? We’re just trying to get home, ya see!” the elder explained, looking confused at the term.

“‘T-The Beast’?” the other boy whimpered, hiding further behind his brother. Oh no, that didn’t sound good at all. He did not want to come across any sort of beast in the dark scary woods at night while lost and far from home!

“Well, welcome to The Unknown, boys. You’re more lost than you realize,” the old man explained, a sour look painting his features.

Wirt began to shake a bit, eyes flying this way and that as he took another look around him. The tree nearby suddenly had a face, looming and angry as it towered over them, the wind playing through its decrepit and hollow openings while leaves blew past. The lantern light did little to make it appear less-frightening, causing the sight to be even more scary than it would have been without the added lighting.

* * *

 

“I found this homestead abandoned and re-purposed its mill for my...needs,” the man explained as he bent over a fireplace, knocking together a stone and a flint to light a spark. After explaining to the boys where they were, the old man had taken them to a house on a river, offering them a sort of respite from the chilly and dark woods.

“You and your brother should be safe here while I work,” he continued to explain, turning to face the listening child as a fire grew before him in the fireplace, shedding a warm glow throughout the room.

“Candy trail, candy trail, candy trail,” Greg hummed to himself, placing a trail of candy along their path while the other spoke, not listening in the least. Since he didn’t think of it before, he might as well start their candy trail now in case they got lost again!

“W-What do you do for work, exactly?” the younger boy squeaked out, still a bit intimidated by the frightening older man that had taken them in.

“Everyone has a torch to burn, and this here’s mine,” the other explained after a beat, patting the metal lantern at his feet, “I grind the horrid Edelwood trees into oil to keep this lantern lit,” he continued, taking one of the branches from the pack on his back and breaking it into two, throwing the pieces away and under a nearby couch. Looking towards the fire, the old man went on, “This is my lot in life, this is my burden.”

“Psst, Greg,” Wirt whispered, tugging on his elder brother’s arm.

“Hm?” the other questioned, bending down to his sibling’s level.

“This guy sounds kind of crazy, maybe we should try and run away. I mean, if we can, but, uhm, he probably knows the woods really well, so we may need to distract him first,” the boy explained, putting emphasis on the ‘really’, “Except, uh, that might turn out sort of bad, huh? Yeah, bad, bad idea, bad plan, forget it, bad plan,” the child shook his head, looking incredibly conflicted.

“Okay, I’ll think of something too!” Greg exclaimed, overtly loud when compared to Wirt’s whisper.

“What are you boys whispering about?” the man turned the side of his head so that one eye was on the pair, scrutinizing them carefully.

“Oh, we were just talking about leaving here,” the elder brother explained, not seeing a problem with telling the nice old guy who had brought them to his house.

“Shh, shh!” Wirt’s eyes widened, trying in vain to jump up and quiet his brother. It was in times like these that the five-year old really hated his short stature.

“No, you shh!”

“Shh!” they both fought again, only to be cut-off by the old man for what seemed like the nth time.

“Leave if you wish, but remember, The Beast haunts these woods,” the man warned again, his lantern casting an eerie glow around him, “Forever singing his mortal melody,” he dramatized, moving forward as he clutched at the air, “In search of lost souls such as yourselves!” the lantern was held up, further pronouncing how creepy the old man appeared to be.

“To help us out?” Greg questioned, seeming not to grasp the warning that the old man was giving them.

“No, not to help you,” the woodsman dismissed, turning away from the boys and making his way towards the door. Opening the door, he continued, “I have work to do in the mill, when I am finished I will do what I can to guide you,” the man turned towards them, the door half-closed, “if you are still here when I return.”

With that, the door closed with a creak, leaving the two boys alone in the warm sitting room.

“Uhm, I guess that means we can just leave…?” Wirt pondered, looking a bit confused by the whole situation, “But, I don’t know...that guy was still scary...and The Beast sounds even scarier…” he mumbled to himself, kicking at the floor with a frown.

Behind him, Greg walked off with his frog, picking up a cut of wood and swinging it around, “Uh, Greg!”

If they were leaving, they would have to leave together, and as the elder of them, Greg needed to decide!

“What?” the other questioned, swinging the wood through the air with a huff of exertion, then throwing it aside with a smile and making his way back over to his little brother.

“Do you think there really is a Beast out there, or is that crazy old guy just trying to scare us?” he asked, frowning a bit as his sibling continued to mess around with the things in the room.

“Uh-huh,” Greg gave a noncommittal reply, swinging the statue he now held in his grasp. He seemed to really want to test out these items for some reason.

“I mean, he hasn’t really attacked us yet if that was his plan,” the boy frowned, then scooted closer to the fire and gestured towards it, “and he lit this fire! That’s...pretty nice,” he shrugged, taking a seat on the red couch close to the flames.

“Yeah! There was nothing to worry about, I told you, little brother o’ mine,” Greg grinned, wandering around the room in his mini little “adventure”.

“There probably really is a beast in that scary forest...I mean, there was a talking bird, and if this is all like a fairy tale there’s probably the bad guy, but…” Wirt mumbled, moving his hands around as he spoke.

“Yeah, probably! A villain for us to slay!” his brother shouted enthusiastically, seeming to enjoy his little trek.

Letting out a small squeak, the younger of the two laid down on the couch, trying to soak in the warmth and ignore his sibling’s words. No, he did not want there to be a villain, even if there was the possibility of one existing! Looking up at the ceiling, the boy thought back to his favorite lines of poetry his mother had read to him recently, trying to create his own, “Sometimes I feel like I’m like a little boat...on a really big-- No, wait, that’s no good, uhm, a ginormous river, going on forever towards really dark clouds...on and on, floating away from home, from, uhm, me on the shore…” Wirt monologued, moving his hands dramatically as he attempted to weave together a poem.

“Oh, I didn’t know you felt like that,” Greg replied, as if the other had been speaking to him, “You should take a break from all of that poem-y stuff and have some candy!” the boy grinned, pausing in his little trek around the room and throwing candy at his little brother.

“Hey, Greg, no, stop that, I don’t like candy,” the other complained, holding his hands up to shield his face from the onslaught of sugary treats.

“What! Everyone likes candy, Wirt,” the elder replied, looking scandalous.

“Yeah, well, I don’t,” Wirt grumbled, laying back down again. He really just wanted to go back home and sleep, this whole mess was not something he wanted to deal with.

“Agh, you’re not being really helpful. Hey, where did your frog go?” the younger noticed, looking around the room.

“Aw, beans! Where is that frog o’ mine?” Greg questioned, standing up from his sitting position, making his way to the door, the boy paused, “Hold on a second, brother o’ mine, I’ll be back soon for our plan,” he promised, throwing another shower of candy before leaving the room.

On the couch, Wirt just let out another sigh.

* * *

 

“Hmm, hmm,” Greg hummed to himself, looking around outside the mill. Where had that frog gotten to anyways? He hadn’t left the animal alone for too long, he couldn’t have gotten far! Water rushed through the stream nearby while the boy searched, calling out, “Kitty! Kitty? Now where did that frog named Kitty go?” the teen questioned, walking backwards until he tripped on one of the pieces of candy he had left outside.

“Whoops! I tripped on my own candy trail,” the boy laughed, making no move to get up.

The sound of heavy breathing filled the air, taking up the space once joyous laughter had occupied. Letting out an inquisitive sound, Greg stood up and made his way towards the foliage, head cocked to the side in confusion, “Hm?”

He was about to go in when a sudden croaking caught his attention. Kitty! Turning back around, Greg walked over towards the mill with an amused statement, “That frog’s giving me the runaround,” tossing candy along the way.

Pushing aside the barrel that stood in front of the window, the heavyset boy peaked in through the opening, calling out, “Kitty!”

What he saw though, was something completely different. Inside the mill, the old woodsman stood, grinding up the Edelwood branches into oil and filling glass bottles with the liquid that came out while humming to himself. It was hard to say why, but there was something unsettling about the sight, despite it being exactly what the man said he would be doing.

“Yeesh,” Greg commented to himself, “What a weirdo.”

A ribbit broke through his thoughts, and the teen turned around at the sound, “...Kitty?”

The heavy breathing came again, distracting the boy once more. Frowning a bit, he stepped forward, “Hey, is that--” stopping as he tripped on his candy again and fell back onto the barrel, smashing into it and breaking the wood apart, “Whoopsies!”

A ribbit beneath him turned the boy’s attention back, and he smiled down at the frog laying slightly squashed under his head, “Oh, there you are, Kitty!” the frog replying with a choked ribbit, to which the boy just gave a laugh.

The heavy breathing from before got louder and closer, the boy looking around in confusion, “...Wirt?” he called out, thinking it was his little brother playing a trick on him. With no reply, the boy called out again, “...Kitty?” why it would be the frog he was clearly laying on was beyond him, but it was worth a shot.

Two bright multi-colored eyes stared down at him, laying on the face of a large and dark wolf-like beast. Shying away from the ever-closer beast, Greg blurted out, “Y-You have beautiful eyes,” as the creature growled in his face.

Uh-oh.

* * *

 

Inside the homestead, Wirt sat, tongue stuck out a bit in concentration as he tried to master the ball on the point game. Always so close, yet never quite good enough. Letting out a sound of frustration at his most recent failed attempt, the boy looked up in surprise as a raspy growl filled the air.

“Greg…?” he called out, knowing that there had to be something bad out there. Of course there was, of course! Was it The Beast? Oh, gosh, he really hoped it wasn’t The Beast.

“What’s happening?” the woodsman called out, bursting through the side door, “Where’s your brother?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” the boy shrugged, face scrunched up a bit in confusion. Just what the heck was going on?

“Holy moly…hot dog…” Greg slipped in through the front door, looking discombobulated as he almost fell over, wooden boards from the barrel outside stuck to him in certain places. The two boys in the home looked towards him, watching as a large and rabid dark wolf pushed through the door after the teen, throwing the dizzy boy onto the stairs.

“I-It’s The Beast!” Wirt squeaked, scrambling backwards towards the now cold fireplace. Oh man, oh man, oh man!

“Stay back, boys!” the old man commanded, raising his axe above him, ready to strike, “This creature which is known as,” then he paused, “Huh?” as Greg knocked off his hat with a plank of wood.

Stepping on the statue of bluebirds on a branch, the woodsman fell backwards and slammed his head on the log of wood, effectively knocking himself out with a groan of pain. This allowed for The Beast to come further in, growling as he moved towards Wirt, “Greg, why did you do that?!” the child screamed, having watched all of this play out in shock.

“That was the plan, remember? Knock him out! I whalloped him good, huh, Wirt?” the other seemed proud of himself, throwing the wooden board over his shoulder nonchalantly.

“No! No! Bad plan, that was a very bad plan! I thought we agreed to forget that plan!” the boy exclaimed, using the fireplace fan to fend off the beast as it tried to get a bite out of him. It was really difficult for the five-year old, and his arms shook with the effort, but there was no way he was just gonna let this creature take a bite out of him! After a moment, the boy gave in, putting the fan down and hiding behind it in vain.

“Bad dog! Bad doggie! Spank, spank, spank!” Greg cut-in, accenting each word with a hit from the wooden side of the axe, “Bad doggie, don’t attack Wirt!”

The wolf then turned its attention towards the older child, growling as it made its way over to the boy. Meanwhile, Wirt scrambled forward, running from the room as fast as his little legs would take him, “Run, run, run, run, run, run, run!”

“Candy camouflage!” the remaining boy yelled, throwing candy on the ground as he grabbed Kitty and ran from the room, chanting a, “Run, run, run, run, run, run, run,” just like his younger sibling had.

The Beast followed the boys, chasing them into the mill connected to the abandoned homestead. It lunged at Wirt, the small and agile boy nimbly jumping out of the way and towards the other side of the room as the creature crashed against the table in the room. Looking around wildly, the child called out for his older brother, “Greg!”

“This is pretty amazing, huh! A real life adventure!” the teen walked over, dragging the axe along with him.

Wirt was going to reply, but the wolf shook off its daze, coming towards them again. Looking around the area, the boy spotted a bag of potatoes and took action. You worked with what you could get, after all. With great effort, the small boy dragged the bag of potatoes over, throwing them at the wolf in an attempt to distract or stun him so he and Gregory could get away.

“Am I supposed to throw something too?” Greg asked, looking at the frog and the axe in his hands. He wasn’t going to throw Kitty, and the axe was way too dangerous to throw around! The Beast gave a yell, startling the boy into falling over. The action made Greg remember something, and he let out an exclamation as he remembered the candy in his pockets, “Oh yeah!” he laughed, throwing the candy at the beast.

It seemed like the creature liked it, as it licked up his candy, pausing in its attacks on them. Further in the back, Greg and Wirt watched from behind a stone ring as the wolf licked up the food, “He’s eating your candy,” the smaller noted, watching the scene with awe.

“Huh, I wonder if he ate my whole candy trail that led to this mill,” the older questioned aloud, seeming to find nothing wrong with that statement.

“Ah! Greg, you led The Beast right to us with your candy!” Wirt exclaimed, smacking his brother’s leg lightly. Greg had the decency to look abashed, though the moment was ruined as the creature let out a roar and knocked over the whole platform, knocking the two boys to the ground.

After taking a moment to regain their senses, the pair stood up, watching as the wolf tried to get to them past the wooden platform that had fallen over and blocked its path, “Ah, w-we gotta get outta here!” Wirt worried, flinching back a bit with each scratching sound the wolf made as it scrambled against the wood.

“Over there!” Greg spoke, patting his brother’s head to get his attention.

Following his pointed finger, Wirt gave a nod and the two clambered up an old wooden ladder. With a bit of effort, they walked along a thin beam on the wall and made it to the higher wooden platform, escaping through a hatch to the roof and seemingly safe from The Beast.

That is, of course, until the creature burst through the roof and cornered them.

Wirt let out a little scream, hiding behind Greg’s legs once more as he shook in his loafers. No, no, no, no! This night could not go any worse than it already was! Looking up at his brother, the boy called out, “G-Greg, give him the rest of your candy!”

Looking through his various pockets, the boy frowned at the lack of candy that greeted him. Uh-oh, that wasn’t good. At that moment, the teen noted the candy he had stuck to his younger sibling’s cloak and gave a bright smile. Without a word he picked up the red-wrapped caramel and threw it over the roof, watching with relief as the creature jumped past them to get the candy, getting caught in the mill.

The boys watched as the wolf spat out a glob of black from the force of the mill’s water power, falling into the river as the house broke apart from the power needed to squeeze the creature. As a result, the siblings were unceremoniously thrown into the river as well. Stepping out from the water, Wirt watched as a little turtle with a blue-wrapped candy crawled away from the thrown-up mess, seemingly the source of the infection.

“Hey, Wirt, look!” Greg called out from behind the boy, causing the younger to look around in confusion.

“Greg?” the child questioned, only to be stopped by a pair of arms picking him up and placing him on the back of a white and reddish-brown marked dog, “He spit out that turtle and now he’s our new best friend!”

The dog, though, had other plans. Shaking itself to rid the water from its fur, the animal threw Wirt off its back and back into the river, soaking the child once more.

“Oh,” Gregory frowned, watching as the dog walked off, “Hey, where are you going! ...Aw, ain’t that just the way?”

Unamused, the younger of the two slipped out from the cold river again, shivering a bit, “Greg, where’s the--”

“The mill is destroyed, the oil...all gone!” the woodsman cried out, staring at the destroyed section of the homestead. Getting down on his hands and knees, the man cradled the empty remains of a glass bottle, an inky black stain as dark as night painting the grass its pieces rested on.

“B-But look! We got The Beast problem solved!” Wirt exclaimed, shaking himself off a bit as he pointed towards the sleeping dog nearby.

“The dog?! That is not The Beast!” the old man exclaimed, pulling the axe from Greg’s grasp, “The Beast cannot be mollified like some farmer’s pet!” he continued, walking forward as Wirt looked on, horrified. If that wasn’t The Beast, what was?

“He stalks into the night,” the man spoke on, walking towards the river as he swung down with the axe he had taken back from Greg and cut a piece of a rock off, “He sings like the four winds, He is the death of hope! He steals the children, and then he…he’ll...ruin...the...the...” the old man broke off into mumbling, sitting down on the bank.

“Aw, Greg, you really messed this one up,” Wirt whispered, frowning up at his older sibling with clear disapproval.

“But we had a great adventure at least!” the other exclaimed, seeming completely unbothered by it.

“Boy, you have it wrong! You are the elder child, you should be the one in charge during these situations, not off gallivanting on an adventure,” the woodsman stood up, turning around the point at Greg.

“Huh? But we were just havin’ some fun,” Greg replied, looking confused.

“W-We’re sorry, maybe I can fix it…? I-I can’t fix it,” Wirt mumbled, looking at the ground. He had always hated it when adults got upset with him.

Shaking his head, the old man spoke, “You must go….Take your brother north, look for a town,” he explained, pointing towards a path past the river.

“Uhm, yeah, thanks,” the smaller of the pair mumbled, tugging on his confused brother’s hand, “Come on, Greg.”

As the boys jumped over the stones, the man called out to them once more, “One last thing, beware The Unknown! Fear The Beast! And leave these woods, if you can,” he narrowed his eyes, “It is your burden to bear!”

“Uhm, yeah, right,” Wirt gave a nod, nudging Greg to do the same, “got it.”

“And little one, you are the younger child, don’t take it upon yourself to always the lead the way. And, boys, you captured that frog, now give him a proper name,” the man concluded.

“Okay!” the teen replied, seeming to already have forgotten he had been chastised, his frog giving a croak of agreement.

With that, the three split off, the two boys heading north and the woodsman making his way west in search of oil.

As the boys walked, Greg spoke up not too soon after, “Wirt, I think I’ve thought of a new name for our frog. I’m gonna call him Wirt!”

“Uh, that’s gonna be too confusing,” the younger frowned, “and I’m not a frog.”

“No, I’m gonna call you Kitty from now on,” the elder replied with a little grin, obviously teasing his sibling.

“What! Maybe I’ll start calling you Candy Pants then!” Wirt replied, neither pausing in their trek through the woods.

“Woah, yeah!” Greg exclaimed, seeming to be more than pleased with his new nickname. The frog gave a croak of agreement, and the teen looked down at him with a smile, “Good one, Wirt!”

“Thanks,” the five-year old replied, pleasantly surprised by the compliment.

“I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to Wirt!” Greg laughed, holding up his frog.

Up above, the half-moon shined as a bluebird looked down on the bickering siblings walking deeper into The Unknown.

 


	2. Hard Times at the Huskin' Bee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 2. I am so sick of this episode. God help me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crawls over...here it is...
> 
> Chances are I'll edit the typos in this tomorrow, but it's late and I'm tired and HERE.

Orange-tinted leaves swayed in the winds, a few flying off to be carried away to lands far away from their original home. Overhead, a flock of geese flew high in the sky, their destination a mystery to everyone but themselves. The sky was a grey color, the clouds leaving dots of white to mix in with the dark mess, and the wonderful golden hue of the rising sun slowly made its way across the monochrome canvas of the atmosphere.

A cricket sat upon a leaf, playing its tune among the gentle swaying of the wind. Turkeys walked through the paths in the woods, in search of food and nourishment as winter was soon to approach. The end of fall had undoubtedly come to The Unknown, caressing the forest with tendrils of golds and browns in the way only nature can.

Along the leaf-covered path walked two brothers, making their way through the clusters of trees in hopes of encountering a village. The taller of the two walked along a bit ahead of the other, making odd faces and sticking out his tongue in various ways. Sometimes he would roll the appendage in his mouth, at other instances, have his tongue peak out slightly from between his lips, and even at other instances make strange noises and spit out into the air. Clearly the teenager was bored, and this was the least destructive way he could afford to entertain himself, it seemed.

Next to him, his younger brother’s eyes roamed their surroundings, taking in the breath-taking picture autumn had painted for them. While it was a nice forest, the boy wanted to go home, and his brother’s antics only further proved to make him more agitated. Letting out a quiet sigh, Wirt spoke up, “It’s almost morning. We should have found a town by now…” turning his gaze to his elder sibling, he continued, “This is the way that the woodsman told us to go, right?”

A woodsman, that’s what that old man had been. Collecting wood, using it to make oil, residing in the deeper parts of the scary woods. A while ago, Wirt had heard the term in a story his mother had read to him, though he was glad to know that the woodsman in the story wasn’t like the woodsman they had met. Sure, there had been an axe, and a scary wolf-like creature, and...well, he wasn’t Little Red Riding Hood, and that was what mattered.

“I don’t know,” Greg shrugged in response, pausing in his antics, “But have you seen how cool this is, Wirt! Look, my tongue makes a weird ‘click’ sound when I go like this!” the elder grinned, opening his mouth wide and moving his tongue about this way and that to produce a “click” sound.

Wirt remained unamused. Frowning at his sibling, the boy stood up a bit straighter, “Can’t you ever act your age, Greg?”

In response, the boy received another round of clicks, followed by some other strange sounds from the teenager accompanying him.

“Well, that settles it. I’m gonna walk up ten feet ahead of you,” the shorter replied, moving forward as to outpace his much larger brother. There was no way he was going to deal with that for another few hours! Wasn’t that village anywhere in sight? He doubted the woodsman had lied to them, there wasn’t really a reason for the scary old man to, but they hadn’t come across anything in the whole evening they had been trudging through the forest.

“Help!” a feminine voice called out, pulling Greg’s attention away from the sight of his brother’s back getting further and further away.

“Huh?” he mumbled to himself, eyes widening. Trying to discern the source of the call for aid, the brunet’s eyes scanned the scenery around him.

“I’m stuck!” the voice exclaimed once more.

“Wirt, wait, I hear something!” the teen called out, looking towards his brother in an attempt to get the younger to slow down. It wouldn’t be any sort of good if the little kid walked off without Greg there to lead the way for him!

Stopping in front of a tree, Wirt was quick to reply, “It’s probably nothing,” then paused, slowly reading the sign nailed into the tree he now stood in front of. Luckily enough, the sign was just the right height for him, so it wasn’t any trouble for the child to discern what it said, “Hey, look! Pottsfield, one mile....It’s a town! How about we go this way?” the boy read, turning to face his brother as he called out.

“Okay, let’s go this way,” the other responded, promptly turning around and walking the other way.

“Not--” the younger began, watching his supervisor turn and walk away. Letting out a sigh of aggravation, the boy frowned. He couldn’t just go off on his own, he needed Greg to be there to lead the way for him.

“Hello?” Greg called out, looking around him for the source of the voice from earlier. Sure, he and Wirt could go the way his brother had pointed out, but he had to help the lady first! Wherever she was, that is, “Hello?”

“Hey, you!” the mysterious voice spoke again, a rustling a leaves following its appearance.

“Who, me?” the teen questioned, immediately turning around to face the source of the  voice. There, behind him, in the bush! Was someone hiding in there, or was it possibly a magical bush? That would be pretty cool!

“Yeah, you,” the mystery person responded, tone short.

“Oh,” the pudgy boy replied, peeking his head into the bush while on his hands and knees in search for the source of the voice. A familiar bluebird lay in the tangled vine of the blackberry bush, staring at the boy with slight apprehension. Immediately figuring that the speaker must be the bird from last night, Greg greeted, “Hello!”

“Oh, it’s you again,” the bird replied, flapping her wings and kicking her feet a bit as she tried to escape from her confines, “I’m stuck. Help me out of here and I’ll owe you a favor!”

“Woah! I get a wish?” he questioned, looking ecstatic at the prospect.

“No, no, no, not a wish. I’m not magical, I’ll just do you a good turn,” the female clarified, continuing to struggle a bit as she spoke.

“So, can you turn me into a tiger?” the boy asked, seeming to completely disregard the other’s statement about not being magical.

“Uhm, no, I just said I’m not magical,” the bluebird replied, tone a bit more harsh at having to repeat herself.

“It doesn’t have to be a magical tiger,” Greg clarified, as if that would somehow make the deed possible for the trapped girl.

Wirt came up behind him, having had enough of standing by himself while his older brother stuck his head in a bush and spoke to nothing. What was he even doing, anyways? Playing pretend? Back home, Greg loved to play pretend, even though he was a teenager and should have more interest in other serious things. Their mother always commented on how it seemed as if Wirt were the older brother and Greg was the younger. The boy was happy that was not the case--how difficult would it be to handle a child Greg? It was in times like these that the child thanked the fact he was the younger brother. One of the rare times he was thankful for that fact, really.

“Greg, stop talking to that bush,” the boy frowned, pulling on his sibling’s pant leg, “We really need to get home!”

“Okay!” the other responded, easily moving the vines and letting the bird go free.

“Huh?” Wirt questioned, watching in confusion as the female bluebird from earlier flew out of the bush and into the air, free at last.

“Thanks! I owe you a favor, so, uhm…” she began, Wirt staring up at her blankly, “You two are lost kids with no purpose in life, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Greg agreed, holding his pet frog close to his body. Next to him, Wirt frowned, giving the air an incredulous look. Did his brother not comprehend what that bird lady had just said to them?

“How ‘bout I bring you to Adelaide of the pasture,” she spoke, the sunlight shining briefly for a moment at the mention of the as of yet unmet person's name, “the good woman of the woods!”

Wirt continued to stare in blank amazement at the talking bird, as if still unable to fully understand that he was indeed listening to a bluebird talk. Something that should not even be remotely possible. Meanwhile, Greg was smiling up in excitement at the prospect of meeting this “Adelaide” person.

“She could help you get home,” the girl continued, keeping her voice light and airy.

“Oh,” the teen replied, “that would be great!”

“N-No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” the youngest of the trio spoke up, shaking both his head and his hands in disapproval, “Magic talking birds leading us to fairy godmothers in the mysterious--” the boy cut himself off, moving his hands around frantically as he spoke. Slumping over a bit, the child walked forward while hunched over, “We’re going to Pottsfield...right, Greg?” he murmured, stalking off towards the town once again.

“Yeah, we’re going to Pottsfield! Come on!” the teen replied, waving his hand in a friendly gesture and following after his younger sibling. While the idea of visiting a magical lady in the woods was tempting, Wirt obviously wanted to see the village first, and Greg didn’t have a problem with allowing him that.

“What about the favor?” the girl questioned, flapping her wings and following after the two despite herself.

“I’ll think of my wish later,” the boy replied easily, keeping up his pace as he walked the path behind his younger sibling.

“Ugh,” the bird let out a groan, but decided to continue following after the two. Something was telling her this would be more trouble than it was worth.

As the trio continued to go along, green fields of pumpkins encased in their pastures by old brown wooden fences began to pop up along their path. The morning fog rolled over them, the geese above their heads letting out calls as the sun fully took its seat in the sky.

“So, let’s small talk,” Greg began, turning to look at the bird as she flew down near his head as to make the discussion easier for both of them, “My name’s Greg, what’s yours?”

“Beatrice,” the female, now known as Beatrice, replied.

“My little brother’s name is Wirt,” the teen introduced, gesturing down towards his much smaller sibling.

“Who cares,” Beatrice dismissed, having no interest in the names of the two children she was now accompanying.

Wirt frowned at her dismissal of him, then shook his head a bit with a small sigh. He was sort of used to being dismissed by others now, it shouldn’t bother him so much. Still, it was annoying how she didn’t seem to care at all about his name.

“And, my frog’s name is Wirt Jr., but that may change,” the boy continued on, rubbing his frog in a soothing manner as he introduced the amphibian.

“Okay, that’s great,” the bird replied quickly, “How about you and I ditch your brother,” she offered, clearly still in earshot of the child.

“Hmm, maybe later,” Greg shrugged her proposition off. He was the elder sibling, he couldn’t just leave Wirt alone! Continuing on, the teen questioned, “So, is it nice being a bird?”

“Nope,” the girl responded easily, no hesitation in her words.

“Oh,” the boy looked away for a moment, seeming to need a minute to collect himself after the stunning answer, “Do you like waffles?”

“No, waffles make me sick,” the other responded, “I eat...maggots,” Beatrice seemed to have trouble spitting out, as if disgusted by her own diet.

“Ah!” Greg exclaimed, slapping a hand against his face in shock.

“What?” the bluebird responded worriedly, flipping over in surprise at his sudden exclamation.

“How can you not eat waffles?” the food-loving teenage boy questioned, looking horrified at the prospect.

“Ah!” he exclaimed again, a crunching sound reaching his ears as he felt something on his leg.

“What?!” Beatrice questioned once more, flipping over again in another round of shock.

“I stepped on a pumpkin!” the boy shouted, holding his hand to his face as he gazed down at the mutilated fruit on his foot.

“Aha!” Wirt suddenly exclaimed, pointing excitedly towards the sprawling village in front of them, “Civilization!” the child turned around as his two compatriots walked forward to meet him, “See! Now--huh?” he paused, stopping mid-stride as he heard a crunching sound.

Looking down in surprise, the child stared at the small pumpkin his foot had now claimed as a home, “What the--?”

Violently kicking his foot, the boy struggled to get the orange mess off of his lower leg. It took him a moment, but the child managed to free his lower appendage, glad to no longer be trapped in the dastardly fruit.

Immediately turning back to face the village as if the last few minutes had not occurred, the young boy placed his hands on his hips, “Alright! Let’s rejoin society, right, Greg?”

“Mhmm, let’s go!” the other gave a nod of agreement, studying the destroyed pumpkin for a moment before following. The poor little guy was completely squashed! He would treat his pumpkin buddy much nicer.

The three made their way into town, walking down the hilly dirt road and into the village. There were numerous buildings here and there, though there was nary a sign of a person that any of the three could see. The early morning sunlight cast streams of golden rays upon areas of the town, though shadows covered the ground behind every building.

“Hello?” Wirt called out, eyes scanning the area for any sign of another human being, “Hello?” he called out again, dragging out the last vowel a bit.

“Hm,” the boy frowned, turning his head this way and that as they walked, “See anybody?”

“No,” Greg dragged out the last vowel as well, turning his gaze to meet his distracted little brother with a smile, “Oh, wait!” he grinned, poking his younger sibling’s cheek, “I see you!”

“...Yeah, I see you too, Greg,” the other responded with a frown, hitting away his brother’s hand.

“Hey, not to be obnoxious, but an abandoned ghost town doesn’t seem like it’s gonna be that useful getting you guys home,” Beatrice pointed out, turning to address Wirt for the first time from her perch on Greg’s head.

The child narrowed his eyes at the bird, still holding a dislike for her, and cleared his throat. Not bothering to dignify her with a response, the younger boy turned and walked off, Greg following after. Walking along, he approached a house with the door slightly ajar, “There’s got to be somebody,” he reasoned. “Somewhere…”

Knocking on the wooden door, the small boy called out, “‘Scuse me!” he opened the door, peeking his head through the crack, “Anyone here?”

Opening the door wider with a creak, the younger brother stared in confusion at the sight that greeted him, “Hello?” he questioned, watching as a turkey rested its head upon the cloth-covered table in the room.

As the bird raised its head, the child stumbled back a bit with his words, “Oh, sorry, uh,” he began, eyes glancing from side to side as to avoid eye contact with the gross-looking animal, “I’m...looking for a phone,” he offered as explanation. If Beatrice could talk, who’s to say that this animal wasn’t also sentient?

The turkey merely blinked in response.

“Ah, uh, I’m sorry, haha,” Wirt laughed nervously, closing the door a bit and fleeing from the scene. Right. Of course the turkey couldn’t talk.

Back inside, the animal flopped back onto the table.

“Did you find anything?” Beatrice asked upon the boy’s return, watching as the child ran up to them.

“Nope. Where’s Greg?” he questioned, noting the absence of his elder sibling.

“Do you hear that?” the teen asked, popping his head out from a stack of hay. How the other had managed to dig himself inside of there was beyond the child.

“Huh?” the younger questioned, following his brother’s pointed thumb to the large barn house a bit down the way from them. Singing seemed to reverberate from the building, filling the otherwise silent air with the sound of human life.

“Haa!” the brothers gasped simultaneously, looking towards each other in surprised excitement. If they could find someone, they could finally get home! This was their chance!

Making their way down the path, the group of three found themselves peering into the ajar door, watching as a group of what appeared to be people that were covered head to toe in various crops danced around in the large barn. There was a maypole a number of them were spinning around, singing cheerfully all the while, with carved pumpkins on their heads. In another corner, a group of people stood husking corn, in another, people were peeling apples with small knives; off to the corner, two people danced in a circle with a cat, and off to another side, a man seemed to be bobbing for apples, one getting caught in the eye hole of his pumpkin helmet.

Watching all of this in shock, Wirt spoke up, “What the…?”

Behind them, one of the crop-wearing people pushed past the two brothers, giving a, “Oh, pardon me there,” as he passed by. Turning to look at them once he had made his way inside, the man continued, “Say, you folks better don your vegetables and celebrate the harvest with us.”

“Uh...oh! You’re wearing costumes!” the child exclaimed, suddenly realizing the situation. He had thought for a moment there that they had been walking talking pumpkins! This whole place was making him think crazy things were possible.

“Well, sure! Pumpkins can’t move on their own...can they?” the guy shrugged, then turned to go join in the festivities.

Letting out a huff of a laugh, Wirt held a hand to his neck, “Hah, no, yeah, no.” Thank goodness they seemed to have found a nice normal place. Well, relatively normal.

“Good thing I didn’t take this off!” Greg exclaimed, shaking his leg a bit, the pumpkin still attached.

“You guys find this place as creepy as I do, right?” Beatrice questioned, eyes shifting this way and that as she took in the sight.

“So it’s some kind of weird cult where they wear vegetable costumes and dance around a big thing,” the child shrugged, “They seem nice enough,” he countered, inclining his head a bit towards the girl. He would take anything at this point, just as long as they could make it home in one piece.

“Okay, you’re in denial, that’s fine,” the bird shrugged, “But I’m just saying, something feels off about this place.”

Over in one of the quieter corners, one of the townspeople turned his pumpkin-clad head towards them, face hidden behind an expressionless carved pumpkin mask as he dug a carving knife into one of the fruits.

“Well...maybe I can find someone here who will give us a ride home,” the boy responded with another shrug of his shoulders. Turning to his older brother, the child spoke, “Greg, why don’t you try and ask for some help too? Beatrice, thank you, but I don’t think we’ll need your help, you can leave,” he waved her off. Something about the bird really rubbed Wirt the wrong way, though that might just be that she could talk. Or maybe it was how rude she was. Either way, he wouldn’t mind her gone.

Letting out a sigh, the girl responded, “I can’t leave. I’m honor-bound to help you since you guys helped me, that’s the...bluebird rules,” she gave a shrug.

“Uh, okay,” the child mumbled, walking off to confront one of the cult people. He didn’t really believe her, but he also didn’t really care too much.

“Beatrice, would you care for this dance?” Greg offered, holding out his arm as if inviting her to waltz with him.

“No thanks. No thanks, no thanks! I said no thank you!” the bird protested, unable to stop the other as he meandered onto the dance floor of the barn house.

Up above, a large pumpkin head turned to look at them.

Wirt walked along, hoping to find someone trustworthy looking among the strange mass of people inside the building. As he came up upon a girl, she turned to speak to him questioningly, “Say, aren’t you a little too...early?” she inquired. 

“What do you mean?” the boy questioned, looking up at her in confusion.

“I mean, it doesn’t seem like you’re ready to join us just yet,” she clarified, looking at the boy a bit closer. No, he certainly wasn’t even close to ready!

“‘Join you’?” the boy repeated, furrowing his brow a bit, “Yeah, no, I’m just passing through with my older brother,” he explained, shaking his head and gesturing towards the doorway.

“Folks don’t tend to ‘pass through’ Pottsfield,” the woman replied, a certainty to her voice.

“Oh...yeah…?” the child questioned, a bit weirded out at this point.

“Yeah! It’s nice here,” she explained, holding her hands in front of her.

“Uhm, we’re really just looking t-to leave here as fast as possible,” Wirt replied, pulling nervously at the collar of his cloak. Something did not seem right here at all. Maybe Beatrice had been right after all.

“Eh? What, what? Leave Pottsfield? Who wants to leave Pottsfield?” an old man questioned, using a cornucopia as an ear trumpet.

At the old man’s exclamation, everyone in the barn house stopped in their festivities, turning to face the speaker and young child he was talking to.

“Oh, are we leaving already?” Greg questioned, balancing on his pumpkin-leg as people gathered around him.

“Let’s leave immediately!” Beatrice exclaimed, eyes darting around nervously as the cultists gathered around her as well.

While they were being surrounded, one of the crop-clad people shut the door, leaning against it as to ensure there was no escape for the group.

“Uhm, I, just trying to get home,” the youngest of them spat out, backing up as the people came closer and closer towards him. Oh man, he did not like the look of this one bit!

As they approached the group, the people murmured to themselves. Why had these children come here? To ruin their party? Steal their crops?

“Or take off our pumpkin shoes!” Greg cut-in, coming up behind his younger brother as he held his foot up for all to see.

“Eh--no, I, uh,” Wirt stuttered, trying to find some way out of this situation. He was way too young to die!

“Haha,” a deep voice chuckled, cutting through the chatter, “Now hold on everybody,” it spoke up. The “pole” that the people had been dancing on bent down, a large pumpkin head peering down at the boys, “Heh, now let’s not jump to any conclusions,” he laughed again.

“Woah…” the elder of the brothers mumbled, staring in shock at the sight. Behind him clung Wirt, a hand on his head as he stared up in horror and amazement at the sight that now greeted them.

“Enoch, what shall we do with them?” questioned the old man, gesturing towards the group.

“I-I’m done,” Beatrice exclaimed, turning and flying off as soon as possible. There was no way in Hell she was going to deal with this, sorry boys.

“Now let’s see here boys,” the giant pumpkin spoke, snapping himself free from his role as the pole, “How did you end up in this little town of ours?” he questioned, two thin strips coming together as if they were his arms.

“W-Well, we were trying to get home,” Wirt piped up from behind Greg, peering out at the frightening figure, “We...came into town from the woods, ehh,” he paused for a moment, “We saw your farms and your houses and we thought, hey! Here’s a normal place with normal people,” the child reasoned.

“And we both stepped on pumpkins!” Greg chimed in helpfully, holding his leg up once again.

“Y-Yeah! And t-then we heard the music from the barn and, well...uh...how-how ‘bout we just leave?” the boy offered, not able to explain any more than he already had. Back home, he was used to being the one to explain the situations he and Greg got into to adults, but this giant pumpkin head was just way too scary!

“Now, let me get this straight,” the man began, letting out a laugh, “You come to our town, you trample our crops, you interrupt our private engagement, now you wanna leave,” he listed, wiggling his strange paper-like arms as he spoke.

“Uh...yes,” the child nodded.

“You got that right!” his elder brother agreed, nodding his head along with the child.

“This one’s trying to escape!” the old man returned, carrying Beatrice in his grasp as she attempted to escape and fly off.

“Let me go! I don’t know these clowns!” the girl protested, kicking her feet and flapping her wings in an attempt to get away from her captor.

“Children, it saddens me that you don’t wish to stay here with us,” the giant pumpkin spoke, placing his thin hands together again, “Chiefly because I simply have to punish you for your transgressions,” the other tendrils making up his pole-like body began to rise up, wiggling with his words in a threatening manner.

“I told you this place was bad news!” Beatrice spoke up in the old man’s clutches, looking a bit squished in his none too gentle grasp.

Wirt turned towards her, an apologetic frown painting his features.

“So by the order of the Pottsfield chamber of commerce,” the creature spoke in a sing-song voice, appearing more pleased than he should be in the given situation, “I find you guilty of trespassing, destruction of property, disturbing the peace, and murder,” he hissed out, crawling down so he was face to face with the cowering child.

“M-Murder?!” the boy repeated, looking shocked at the news. Were these people really pumpkins then? Had they accidentally killed two of their babies?!

“Oh, no, not murder,” the mayor-like thing laughed, drawing back again, “But, for those other crimes, I sentence you to…” he began, regaining his posture once more. Wirt and Greg looked up in muted fear, wondering what horrible punishment they would have to face for their deeds. After a moments pause, the creature continued, “...A few hours of manual labor.”

All at once, the panic melted off of the boys’ expressions. Stepping out from behind his sibling, Wirt looked up at the man-thing in confusion, “Wait, what? Really? That’s it?”

Not long after found the boys in the fields, using pitchforks to move around hay and clean up a bit on the farmland. Wirt struggled a bit with his work, almost dropping the fork numerous times and needing many breaks. It didn’t help that he was so tiny and thin, but the child did his best. Meanwhile, Greg seemed to find it all fun, whistling to himself and fooling around a bit as he held his frog up in the air on his pitchfork. Beatrice sat on the ground, too little to actively do anything to help the boys out.

After their hay work, the boys were sent to harvest a few pumpkins. Using a pair of clippers, the children cut off pumpkins from the vines, loading them into wooden carts pulled by two turkeys. Greg had to carry the pumpkins over, Wirt attempting to and tripping over his own two feet at the weight of the fruit. It didn’t very much help that they each had a ball and chain attached to their feet so they wouldn’t escape, even Beatrice had one!

All in all, the boy found the farm work to be sort of fun. He leaned against one of the turkeys, watching as Greg carried over one of the larger pumpkins to place in the cart. Taking a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, the child was powerless to stop as one of the turkeys stole his hat right off the top of his head, placing it on the head of the other turkey next to it. Although the messy-haired boy jumped up to try and get his hat back, the two birds were taller and larger than he was and seemed to laugh at his attempts to reach them.

It was in this moment that Wirt fell over, the weight from the chain around his ankle pulling him back down when he went to jump up.

As this occurred, Beatrice looked around, noting how the weird townspeople were watching them from the cornfields, popping up as if they were cornstalks themselves. Yeah, she didn’t like this. At all.

Later, the two boys were picking corn off the cobs, placing them in baskets. At one point, Wirt tried to take a bite out of one, a bit hungry given how they had been walking all night without food. It just so happened one of the villagers was right next to him, and the child immediately put the corn back into the basket, frowning at having been caught. Next to him, Greg pulled corn off of the cornstalks with little to no regard for those around him, accidentally pulling one back and throwing it so it hit his younger brother in the face, causing the child to fall to the ground for the second time that day. It would be two of many times.

As he lay on the ground, the boy met Beatrice’s annoyed gaze, frowning at how annoyed she looked. It wasn’t like he had meant for this to happen! How was he supposed to know the townspeople would be weird cultists? Besides this really wasn’t all that bad.

By the time clouds were rolling in, the boys found themselves doing their last task. Digging holes. Why the people wanted them to dig holes was beyond Wirt, but he was glad it was all almost done, even though he did have a bit of some trouble lifting up large shovelfuls of dirt.

“Haha, just a few hours of manual labor and we’re almost done,” the boy laughed a bit, wiping his brow once more. All this work was really, well, working up a sweat in him!

“And then what are you going to do? Just wander around, this way and that way, through the woods, forever more?” Beatrice questioned from her seat on the ground next to Wirt’s hole, giving him a dubious look.

“Uh...Uh..” the boy started dumbly, pausing in his shoveling for a moment, “Maybe we can just...stay here in Pottsfield. It’s nice here, ha,” he laughed a bit, repeating the words the woman from earlier had told him. Giving the bird an unsure look, the child shrugged, “Uh...I dunno, I dunno. Ask Greg.”

“Why do they even have you digging these holes?” the bird questioned, looking down at the other’s handiwork.

“Uh, I dunno. Planting seeds or...something,” the young child shrugged off her question, placing his foot on the shovel as he attempted to dig out a particularly difficult patch of earth.

“Hah!” she let out a gasp, “Maybe they’re gonna bury you out here,” Beatrice suggested a bit too cheerfully, Wirt giving her a disbelieving look. The people had been nice enough, maybe a bit scary, but definitely nice. They wouldn’t try and kill them! ...Would they?

“Hey, I found something cool!” Greg cut-in, causing the two to turn their attention to the older teen.

“Woah, really?” Wirt questioned excitedly, turning to their bird companion, “See, Beatrice? What’d you find?”

“A skeleton!” the teen exclaimed, climbing out of his hole to showcase what he had found.

“Ah!” the child screamed at the sight, taking a step back and raising his arms. No way, no way, no way! What was a skeleton doing there, and why did Greg think it was cool?

“Yeah! It looks just like the one at school in the science room! Cool, huh?” the elder seemed proud of his find, his hands on his hips. Beatrice seemed to perk up at the revelation, looking over to see the milky white bones.

“We’re digging our own…!” the young boy gasped, turning to look at Beatrice, “Uh, I-I was wrong, I was wrong all along. I, I don’t know how to get us home. Use your little feet to pick our locks!” he exclaimed, seeming desperate.

“Hoh, now you want my help?” the bluebird mocked, seeming unbothered by the situation as a whole.

“I...I don’t want your help, I--” Wirt began, stopping once the sound of music reached his ears. Oh, that wasn’t good!

Turning to face the noise, the two watched as the tall pumpkin-headed man came towards them over the corn field, a procession of flags and trumpet music following him. Moving to look at the bluebird again, the boy held his hands up to his face, “Yes! I want your help! Beatrice, serious--”

“Time is up!” Wirt was cut-off by one of the townspeople, the boy turning to look fearfully at the group lined up before them. Letting out a cry of shock, the child tripped further backwards into his hole.

“Have the holes been dug?” the old man that started it all questioned, holding his arms out in an inquisitive manner.

“Uh...yeah,” the young boy choked out, stock-still in fear.

“Splendid! Well then--” the man continued, only to stop as Wirt cut him off.

“But--no!”

“No?” the other replied threateningly.

“Uh…” the brunet replied dumbly, Greg choosing not to step in in the back. His little brother tended to prefer to deal with things on his own, yup!

“Psst,” Beatrice cut in from inside Wirt's hole, hitting her tiny shovel against the small anklet on her foot, “Keep stalling!”

“Right! Yeah, uh, you know...we were digging, and...there were too many rocks. You guys don’t like rocks, right?” the child questioned, holding his hands out and moving this way and that as he spoke with a nervous tone.

“No, I don’t think we do,” the woman from earlier mumbled to the others.

“No, no we don’t like rocks,” the old man replied, repeating the sentiment that was now rippling through the group.

“See? So we were like, we should get rid of these rocks,” the boy continued on, watching nervously as Beatrice freed his older brother. He really hoped none of the strange cultists noticed!

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” one of the townspeople nodded, looking to the others for agreement.

“Right? Yeah, so, we were getting rid of the rocks, and,” Wirt blathered on, turning to check on Beatrice’s progress, only to stop in shock as Beatrice and a now-free Greg ran off, leaving him behind.

“Huh? Huh? What…?” the child whispered, watching as the two ran off. Turning back to the vegetable-people, he continued, “...They left me.”

“So, what happened to the rocks?” the townsperson continued, holding his hand out to signal that the other go on with his train of thought.

“Uh, the rocks...yeah, they, they were, uhm...y-y-you know, they, they, got in the way...of all the...of all the dirt, you know, and…” the boy mumbled to himself, rambling on and making little to no sense. Unbeknownst to the boy, a bony hand was reaching out of the hole Greg had left behind him, the skeleton climbing out of its resting place.

Turning at the sound, the boy watched in horror as the skeleton seemed to dance around a bit, free from its hole in the ground, “Woa-Woah!”

“Welcome back, Larry!” the old man greeted, the other townspeople walking forward to meet the skeleton.

“He looks exactly the same,” one of the women commented, the others beginning to murmur amongst themselves as they pushed to meet their resurrected friend.

“What in the…?” Wirt questioned to himself, never having even considered the possibility that there could be a walking skeleton. Honestly speaking, the child had no idea what was going on.

The skeleton rolled a pumpkin along its arms, placing the carved fruit upon its head. Leaping forward, the moving bag of bones sat in another larger pumpkin, pushing out its arms and legs to make it appears as if the orange fruit were its torso. All the while, the people cheered on, seeming to find this enjoyable.

Watching all of this in shock, the boy didn’t notice when a skeleton came from his own hole, letting out a cry and leaping back as the thing crawled from the hole and over to the others, taking a pumpkin from his friend.

“They’re all...skeletons,” Wirt mumbled to himself, shocked by his realization. Suddenly everything made sense, their strange words, why they wore fruits and vegetables, why they had the brothers dig holes.

“Thanks for digging up the life of the party!” one of the townspeople said, coming up to the shocked boy.

“What a wonderful harvest,” the tall pumpkin-head commented, watching as the other townspeople danced around the fields with their two new additions. Turning his attention back to Wirt, the man spoke, “And what about you? You sure you want to leave?”

“Me? Yes!” the boy responded, having leapt out of his hole in fear and fallen on the ground.

“Oh well, you’ll join us someday,” the creature replied ominously, turning back to the festivities.

“Uhh…” Wirt mumbled dumbly, staring as the other turned away.

“Psst! Why are you still here?” Beatrice questioned, coming over to the child from within the grass.

“What do you mean? You guys left me!” the boy responded, frowning a bit. The bluebird gestured towards his leg in response, and he turned to look. Oh. She had apparently freed him a while ago and he just hadn’t noticed.

“Oh.”

“Come on!” the bird spoke, urging the child to move ahead. She did not want to stay here any more than she had to!

Greg sat, stretching with his frog as Wirt came running up to them. Turning to look at his little brother, the teen smiled, “Hey, Wirt, there you are!”

“Are they chasing us?” the younger responded, breathing heavily from having run so quickly from the “harvest”.

“Nope!”

“No.”

He got two answers, his two verbally active companions lending helpful replies.

Letting out a sigh of relief, the child slumped over for a moment before standing up straight again, “I-I thought you guys--”

“You’re welcome,” Beatrice cut him off, a smug look on her face.

“...Thank you,” Wirt replied, giving a little bow. Maybe the other wasn’t so bad after all, she really did end up helping them and everything. Still, he didn’t like the way she treated him… “I guess we’re even now, huh? You’re not honor-bound to help us anymore,” the child crossed his arms, giving the other a pained look.

“Huh, I wish,” the bird let out a sigh, spreading her wings, “but you weren’t actually in any danger with those weirdos.”

“Oh yeah...then you still have to help us get home!” the child smiled, holding his hands out in realization.

“I finally got it!” Greg exclaimed, standing up with his frog. Holding the amphibian up, the boy continued, “I wish Wirt Jr. had fingernails, so he could play the guitar better.”

The other two merely stared at the boy, neither surprised by his exclamation. Of course the teen hadn’t been listening. It wasn’t like they had just been discussing an important subject matter or anything like that.

“Soooo, yeah, I’ll bring you to Adelaide,” Beatrice spoke, turning her attention back to Wirt, “I mean, that’s where I’m going anyway.”

“Why are you going to Adelaide’s?” the teen asked, watching as the bird flew off his head and flapped in the air.

“I guess, in some ways, I’m trying to get home too,” she remarked, following after the boys as they began to walk down the gold-painted path through the colorful forest.

“That’s vague, what does that mean?” Wirt questioned, curious about their companion they knew so little about.

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” the bluebird shot back, not willing to reveal her past.

Shrugging off her response, the child continued, “Well, I sure hope Adelaide is more helpful than that woodsman was, I think his directions were...not very good.”

The wind continued to blow, pulling a leaf off of one of the branches. Floating through the wind, the golden-piece of fall looked brown underneath the cloudy sky, its adventure stopped short as it became caught against one of the wooden fences surrounding the fields.

 


	3. Schooltown Follies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 3 of Over the Garden Wall Age Swap!AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I would get through it. I did. Why I do this every week in one sitting is beyond me.
> 
> As usual, I'll fix all typos and grammar mistakes tomorrow.

A thick fog rolled over the morning backdrop of The Unknown. Trees clothed in dark green leaves stood tall, singing birds dancing among their branches. Walking along a grassy path, two boys and a bird made their way through the forest towards their destination. A short stone wall stood besides them, small white flowers growing up here and there along its length. The sun brought warm golden light to the land, giving the leaves and the grass a brilliant and beautiful shine.

As the three walked, the eldest of their group walked along, singing a cheerful tone to match the brightness of the morning, “Oh, we don’t know who she is, or how she is, or when or why she is, but as for where she is she is where we will go!” smiling down at his younger sibling, Gregory elbowed the boy in an attempt to cheer up the tired child, “To Adelaide!” he looked up at Beatrice for support, “To Adelaide!” and promptly found none.

Holding his frog under his arm, the teen continued, “Come on and join the Adelaide parade!” poking his brother’s cheek, trying to get Wirt to smile.

“No,” the younger boy droned, not even bothering to slap his brother’s hand away. Greg had been singing for hours on end, and Wirt had had more than enough singing about “Adelaide” to last him a lifetime.

“Nope,” Beatrice spoke at the same time, flying next to Wirt and looking at the elder sibling with something akin to disdain. She was really starting to regret going along with these boys now. She should have known better--best to trust her animal instinct or whatever.

Greg was not one to be deterred. Wirt was way too down! They had the rest of their whole adventure before them and his little brother already seemed like he was done. Placing his frog down as to allow him to hop alongside their group, the taller boy walked a bit ahead, singing once more, “To Adelaide! To Adelaide! Let’s go to Adelaide’s house,” he finished, then turned back to gauge his companions’ reactions.

Neither looked amused.

Frowning a bit, the boy shrugged, “Uh, well, I need to fix that last part, but that’s the idea,” he offered, disappointed at having failed in cheering up Wirt. It was his job as the elder brother to keep his little brother optimistic and happy! Wirt was always so down and serious, way more serious than a little kid should be, so Greg took it upon himself to play the more childish role in hopes of bringing his sibling’s spirits up.

Well, he had an idea now. If they all sung together, maybe then Wirt would cheer up a bit! Maybe even Beatrice would smile!

Slowing down so he was walking at the same pace as his two fellow travelers, Greg pointed towards their bird friend, “So, Beatrice, you sing the high part,” he commanded. Almost laughing at what he was going to say next, the teen pointed to his little brother, “Wirt, you sing the really high part,” he commanded. It sort of made sense, given that younger boys tended to have more high-pitched voices. Surely Wirt would find it funny!

“What?” the younger replied, looking at the elder in disbelief. Yeah, no, there was no way he was singing, much less singing the “really high part”. The child was about to go off on how his voice was not girly, thank you very much, but paused as he noticed his shoe was untied, “Oh!” he paused, bending down to tie up his black laces.

“And--” Gregory continued, walking a bit further ahead with Beatrice. The male was so caught up in his plans for their chorus that he didn’t even notice when his charge had fallen behind.

“Nobody is singing anything, anymore,” Beatrice cut in, keeping pace with Greg, “And, Wirt, keep moving,” she commanded, the two turning around to face the smaller boy.

Oh! Greg hadn’t even noticed they had left Wirt behind! Sorry, little brother. Maybe he needed help tying his shoes? That’s what it looked like! Then again, the last time Greg had offered to help his brother tie his shoes, Wirt had denied any aid and went on a rambling monologue about how he wasn’t a little kid and could do things himself. Probably best to step back a bit.

“Oh, I-I have to, uh,” the other gave in with a sigh, standing up and leaving his shoes untied, “Alright,” he relented, walking back over with them.

As the trio continued on their way, the larger of them spoke up, “...But we have to do something fun!” Greg liked fun, and everyone knew Wirt needed to like fun a little more! There was nothing wrong with trying to get some funning on!

“You know, we really don’t,” the bluebird immediately shot the idea down, “We can just keep walking, silently, you know,” she continued, a momentary look of long-suffering painting her features. There was absolutely no way she was going to go through even another minute of that horrific singing, the hours so far had been more than enough for her lifetime.

“And--” Beatrice continued, only to stop at something she spotted in the corner of her eye. Letting out an aggravated sigh, she turned around, “Wirt! Let’s go, come on!”

“Sorry,” the child apologized, standing up from where he had stopped, kneeling on the ground. He had attempted to tie his shoe once again, the action needing only a moment, really, but it seemed like Beatrice had caught him before he could. Wirt didn’t want to be a burden, really he didn’t, but his shoe was untied and it would be no good if he tripped!

Standing up once more, the boy made his way back over to the group for the second time that day, “Sorry,” he apologized again, looking abashed.

“But, shouldn’t we--” Greg started, wanting to allow his sibling time to tie his shoe. It wouldn’t be any good if Wirt tripped!

“Greg, I think you should be more like your little brother,” Beatrice cut him off again, landing on top of the taller boy’s head.

Wirt looked shocked at the suggestion, then gave a small smile. It was nice being the preferred one for once. Back home, it always felt like everyone liked Greg better. Greg was so nice. Greg was so funny. Gregory was so clever and imaginative! The perfect child. Meanwhile, Wirt was holed up in his room, reading books and listening to music. He was considered strange and unusual, not like the other kids who ran around outside and played in the park.

“Just always doing what you’re told,” the bluebird continued on.

“Huh?” the child let out the involuntary question, happiness shattered.

“Just a pathetic pushover who relies on others to make all his decisions?” the female questioned, looking down at Greg questioningly.

“Hey!” Wirt frowned, looking up at Beatrice. For a moment, he had thought someone actually thought highly of him! Ugh, he should have known better. This was Beatrice they were talking about, after all. She didn’t think highly of him at all! Still walking along, the boy continued, “What? I’m not a pushover!”

“Hold on, Wirt, let me get to my point,” the bird replied, gesturing towards the boy with her wings.

“Hah, fine,” the younger sighed, rolling his eyes a bit. Once she was done talking, he would show her. He was not a pushover!

“See, Greg?” she questioned, shrugging her wings, “No willpower whatsoever!”

“Hmph!” the boy pouted, turning his head away and clenching his fists. He was not going to take this! He wasn’t a pushover, he was just polite! Beatrice had been talking first, it was only right that he let her finish and get to her point before interrupting.

“You need to be more like that,” Beatrice ignored the child’s anger, looking down at his elder brother as she commanded him to change his behavior.

“But, that doesn’t really sound fun,” the teen frowned, looking up at the bird on his head, “And I think you made Wirt upset.”

“The world is a miserable place, Greg,” the bluebird flew off of his head, flying down to be at eye level with the elder boy, “Life isn’t fun, and Wirt needs to learn to take a few hits,” she explained.

Letting out a breath of air, Greg turned to the other once more, “Then I’ll do what I need to do, I guess,” he shrugged. Beatrice was probably more worldly than either of them were, so it would be good to take her advice. Still, he thought she could be a little more nicer to Wirt.

“Thank you, we’ll just focus on getting you guys to Adelaide’s so I can wash my hands of this whole affair, oh, and if you could pick up the pace a bit, that would be great, okay?” the female spoke, keeping her eyes ahead of her as they walked on.

“...Okay?” she questioned again upon receiving no response, looking back for the first time. Geg was gone. Of course he was.

Stopping in their trek, Beatrice turned her gaze to Wirt, “Hey, where’s Greg?”

“Oh, uh, wandered off, I guess,” the child shrugged, seeming none too bothered by the disappearance of his elder sibling. Greg had the bad habit of getting distracted by things and wandering off quite often, so it wasn’t really anything new to the boy.

“Cheese and crackers!” the girl exclaimed, smacking herself in the face with one of her wings. That kid was more trouble than he was worth.

Going further away from the pair, Greg held his frog in his grasp, “We need to do our part to make the world a better place for Wirt!” he exclaimed, running through the woods. Receiving a croak from his frog in response, the teen laughed, “Haha, that’s right--” then he paused, “Huh?”

A bell tone resounded, filling up the air with a ringing sensation. Blinking at what must have been the source, the teen ran ahead into the clearing, “Woah!”

A fairly small red and white school-house stood in this clearing, the golden bell on top the obvious source of the sound. Stopping in his tracks, the teen frowned, “School? Psh, not today,” he gave a look of disdain, glaring at the building. He did not like school one bit, it was a waste of time and always took away from his time to play with Wirt! ...Well, his friends at school were nice, but school itself wasn’t.

Running ahead, the larger male went to hide behind a large tree, not wanting to be spotted by an administrative member. There was no way he was going to go when he was on an adventure with his little brother and their new friend!

“Greg!” Wirt called out, looking around them as he searched for his elder sibling. Just where had that guy run off to? Next to him, Beatrice searched around as well, eyes scanning the foliage for the missing teen.

“Greg!” the child called again, a bit more desperate. While he didn’t like his brother much, it was at least better having Greg there than just Beatrice. Walking out into the sunlight clearing, the boy ignored the school and looked around, “Greg?”

Stopping in his tracks, the brunet seemed to have just suddenly noticed the homely schoolhouse in front of him. Looking at it, he gave quiet, “Oh,” then turned to look at Beatrice. Hey, maybe Greg was in there. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?

With Beatrice following close behind, the child walked over to the building. Unlike Greg, Wirt sort of liked school. While he may not be well-liked among his classmates, the boy did like learning. It was nice to have books to read and things to do for the whole day, staying home always just ended up being too boring, which was why the child abhorred being sick.

Peeking his head through the doorway, Wirt squinted his eyes and held up a hand to shadow his gaze as to better see into the room, “Greg?” he questioned.

“Excuse me,” a female voice cut-in, the source from that of a petite brunette in the front of the room, “Please, take your seat, children,” she beckoned, the placed her hands on her hips, “You’re late!”

The school seemed to be filled with animals wearing various forms of clothing, each seated in a small wood and iron desk. In front of them stood the brunette woman, wearing a white dress-shirt and a light purple skirt with a bow tied around the waist. Her hair was up in a large upstyle do, and the piece of chalk in her hand signified she was the teacher.

Golden sunlight streamed in from the six side windows, three for each side. Behind the woman sat a black board, and written in script, “Once the bell has rung, class has begun”, a phrase that the female seemed to take seriously.

“You know the rules,” she continued, pointing to the chalkboard with the piece of white chalk in her own grasp, “Once the bell has rung, class has begun,” she repeated.

“Oh, sorry everybody, sorry,” Beatrice apologized from her perch on the side of the doorway, “No, he doesn’t have a brain, he can’t learn anything.”

Wirt frowned at the other’s statement, clenching his fists in anger. Why did she keep insulting him like this? What had he done to deserve her harsh treatment?

“Let’s go, Wirt, come on,” the bluebird gave a whistle, “Come here boy!”

Relaxing his rage, the child turned his gaze to the girl. He had an idea. Fighting back a self-servant smile, the boy questioned, “What? Did you say something? I-I can’t hear you because I’m too busy doing what I’m told,” he countered, walking forward and making his way towards the empty desk in the back of his room.

Eyes wide, the bluebird followed after, “What! What are you…” then she gave a sigh, realizing his game, “No, no, let’s go,” she commanded, landing on the top of his chair next to him.

“Oh, no, see, I’m a pushover, remember?” the boy offered, having been pushed to the limit but Beatrice’s rudeness the past few days, “I have to do what she tells me to do,” he shrugged, shifting around a bit in his seat.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, the bird tried to reason, “Wirt, your older brother could be in trouble somewhere!”

A sudden knocking on the window closest to them caught the pair’s attention, and the two turned to look at the figure of Greg outside the glass. The elder boy waved at the pair, happy to have found them again, then frowned, pointing inside towards the whole of the room. With a deep scowl, he gave it a thumbs down, then paused at a sudden croaking sound. Deciding to continue in his game now that he knew his brother was safe, the teen chased after his pet with a laugh, “Haha, yeah!”

The two inside stared after the other for a moment before Beatrice let out another sigh, “Bluebirds have a short lifespan,” she started, placing a wing on her chest, “You two are literally killing me every moment I am forced to spend with you!” the girl exclaimed, opening her wings wide in aggravation.

“Oh,” Wirt replied with a smile, inclining his head towards the other. He would be more than willing to go along with the bluebird if she just admitted he wasn’t a pushover and stopped being rude.

“Young man,” the teacher in front of the room cut-in, “I will not stand for such nonsense in my classroom,” she wagged her finger, “I got enough nonsense from that no-good two-timing handsome man of mine,” she lamented, squeezing her arms together and looking forlornly at the ceiling. Clasping her hands together, the woman began, “Oh, Jimmy Brown, why did you have to leave me so?” she monologued, holding her hands on her chest.

Moving over to stand in the sunlight, the teacher continued, “And now, with my father threatening to close the school, and that wild gorilla on the loose,” she clenched her fist, staring out the window with a fierce expression.

“Why, Jimmy, I have just one thing to say,” she exclaimed, holding her finger up to the window.

Turning around to face the class again, the woman began to sing, “A is for the apple that he gave to me, but I found a worm inside,” she bounced up and down, making various hand motions as she sang, “B is for Beloved that I called to him, before he,” she went on.

“Whew, that lady has got some baggage,” Beatrice let out a breath of air, finding the whole thing to be very pathetic.

“What’s that?” the woman paused in her singing, her hands on her hips, seeming to have heard what Beatrice had said, “Young man, go to the dunce box,” the teacher commanded, pointing to the small wooden box with bars on the little window of the door.

“Oh,” Wirt frowned for a moment, then immediately perked up, “Sure!” he stood up, walking over to the dunce box, “Sure.” Left behind, Beatrice voiced her disagreement, trying in vain to get the other to stop. Wirt was just too stubborn for his own good.

While he was annoyed Beatrice had gotten him in trouble, the child was more than happy to go if it meant annoying the bluebird. His payback was far from over, and he was willing to keep this act up for as long as he could.

“Aw,” the bird lamented as the other walked over to the box, slapping her forehead in utter annoyance. This was turning out to be a very stressful day.

Opening the door, Wirt bent his head a bit and sat inside the tiny enclosed space, his hat rising up from the open top of the cage.

Back in front of the classroom, the teacher put a hand to her face in thought, “Now, where were we?” she questioned, seeming to have forgotten her song. Clasping her hands to her chest once more, she continued, “Oh, yes. G is for the gentleman I thought he was, when he first said hi.”

From the box, Wirt gave Beatrice a little smirk, a look with which she returned with a narrowed gaze.

Outside the schoolhouse, Greg sat upon a large felled tree laying atop a small stream, his frog, a deer, and a raccoon sitting next to him. On the tree branch hanging above them, a possum hung by its tail, each of the animals wearing some sort of semblance of clothing. His hands on his knees, the teen, continued, “So, my theory is, hot dogs are not actually dogs,” he explained, holding his arms out wide, “Regardless of what they teach you in school,” he spat the word out with disdain, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“But you guys don’t go to school, huh?” leaning in close to the raccoon that was now picking up and throwing a black turtle, Greg grinned, “Imma stick with you guys.”

As the turtle splashed into the cold water, the teen gave a laugh. Well, this was fun. Certainly a lot more fun than stinking school! Still, they could stand to do something else for a bit. Patting the deer next to him, the brown-haired boy spoke up, “Hey, I’ve got an idea! Let’s play two old cat,” he offered, standing up, “Do you guys know how to play two old cat?”

Giving no verbal response, the raccoon merely blinked.

“It’s fun! I’ll show you,” the male offered, turning and running off of the log. Getting down on his hands and knees, the boy searched around under the school, “Here we go,” he called back, pulling out an aged cat from the hole in the wood, “Here’s one old cat!” he showed off, the cat meowing in his grasp.

Over in the grass, the deer picked up an even older looking cat, holding it out for Greg to inspect. Coming up to the animal, the teen noted, “You found another one,” then paused, holding out his hand, “Wait, no, I think that cat is too old,” he dismissed, the elderly feline letting out a sad meow.

“Sorry, kitty, we’ll have to find another old cat,” the boy turned and walked off, going to search for more animals for their game. A game he didn’t actually know how to play.

The raccoon, meanwhile, poured a dish of milk for the old cat and rubbed his head.

Going over to where the possum stood, the teen pointed out, “Hey, Jeffrey, I think there’s one behind you!” he exclaimed.

Turning around, the animal made his way to the bushes behind him and raised a hand, ready to search for a cat for their game. He stopped as heavy breathing filled the air, a large dark figure rising up from the bushes. Letting out a cry, a gorilla stood above the group, arms raised at it screeched.

“Gorilla!” Greg exclaimed, waving his arms frantically. Turning around, the boy called out a quick, “Run!” and fled the scene. What was a gorilla even doing here in the first place? Shouldn’t it be at a zoo?

“And Y, yes, why, is the question that’s on my mind…” a more disheveled looking teacher questioned from her position on the floor, having continued her singing, “Oh, why…”

“Hey, dunce, this is dreadful,” Beatrice stared down at Wirt from her position on top of the dunce box, trying to block out the singing that just wouldn’t stop.

“Good, I’m glad you feel that way,” Wirt smiled up at her, glad to be getting his revenge. Revenge was, after all, a dish best served cold.

“Hmm,” the little bird seethed, glaring daggers at her companion. She was not dealing with this.

As if a blessing from above, the school bell begun to ring, distracting everyone in the classroom. Pausing in her singing, the teacher suddenly sat up, “I remember like...Oh!”

Up above, Greg and the animals clung to the bell, staring down in horror, “Gorilla!”

Still yelling, the beast looked up at the group, arms raised as if ready to strike at them at any moment.

“Oh? Meal time already?” the teacher questioned from within the classroom, patting her hair down, “Come along, children,” she gestured towards the door.

Outside, the animals and Greg ran around the yard, running in circles around a tree while the gorilla chased them. The possum hung from one of the branches, swiping at the beast with a stick he had found earlier. After a number of misses, Jeffrey spit on his hands and rubbed them together, determined not to miss the next hit. When the gorilla paused in confusion under him, the possum struck, whacking the animal on the head and knocking him off of his feet.

Giving his new friend a thumbs up, Greg gave a sound of approval.

Back inside the schoolhouse, the teacher watched as all of the children filed out of the room and into the next, “You don’t want to be late for meal time. My father will be visiting today, and we will need to be on our best behavior,” she advised.

Opening the door to the dunce box, Wirt walked out with Beatrice flying after him, going to eat a meal with all of the rest of the animals. If he was going to school he might as well eat the food too! It had been a while since he had eaten, and the child wouldn’t mind a bite to eat.

“Quick, in here!” Greg called out to his animal friends, rushing inside and after his brother and the other animals.

All of the children sat in two long rows of wooden tables, plates of completely bland mashed potatoes in front of them. In the corner, the teacher played a sad melody on the piano, a portrait of a blond man with the name “Jim” underneath it sat above the instrument. It was a somber atmosphere.

“Oh boy, meal time!” Greg exclaimed, excited by the prospect of food. As a teenage boy, he had come to find food one of his favorite things. Picking up his spoon, the male scooped up a bit and turned to his possum friend, “This is way better than being chased by a gorilla!”

Sniffing at the food, the animal took a mouthful of it, chewing a bit before slumping in disappointment.

“Aw, what’s ‘a matter?” the human of the two questioned, frowning at his new friend’s sad expression. Placing the spoonful of food into his own mouth, the boy chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. Putting his spoon down, Greg turned to look at Jeffrey again, “Mmm, kind of bland…” he remarked, turning to look around the room.

All of the animals looked tired and sad, slumped against the table or propped up on their paws. No one really seemed to be eating, and the music only served to make everything seem even more sad.

Picking up his own spoon, Wirt made to eat when Beatrice stopped him, “Hey, nobody ordered you to eat yet,” she shot, glaring at him.

“Yeah, but,” the child began to protested, then stopped and puffed out his cheeks. Placing his hands on the table, the boy looked down at his food, “Mm.”

He was not going to give up that easily.

His hand on his cheek, Greg thought to himself, letting out a quiet, “Hmm,” as he pondered what to do. This was all so boring, the opposite of what he liked to do. There had to be someway he could make this fun for everyone! Looking over to the woman playing piano, he spotted the bottle of molasses on top of the instrument and got a sudden idea.

“Oh,” the brunette lamented, playing her tune sadly. Oh, if only her Jimmy would come back. Where had that man gotten off to anyhow? That no good Jimmy Brown…

“Hey! I know what to do!” Greg stood up, cutting through the thick and slow silence. Moving over to the piano, the boy addressed the woman, “Here, Ms. Langtree, play something like this,” he offered, slamming his fists on the piano.

Next to him, Ms. Langtree looked appalled at the abuse to her piano, then gave a smile. Playing a new tune, the woman questioned, “Oh, like this?"

Hands on his hips, Greg narrowed his eyes in thought as he listened for a moment, “Mm, good enough,” he gave her a thumbs up and reached up to grab the molasses jar.

Holding up a plate of potatoes and the molasses jar, the teen began to sing, “Oh, potatoes and molasses, if you want some, oh just ask us! They’re warm and soft like puppies and socks, filled with cream and candy rocks!” he sang, slowly pouring out some of the sticky substance onto his raccoon friend’s plate.

At his table, Wirt smiled and waved his finger to the beat, the pug in a sailor suit next to him swaying along to the tune.

“Oh, potatoes and molasses, they’re so much sweeter than algebra class!” he exclaimed, the raccoon impatiently flicking his eyes from the slowly traveling topping to Greg and then back again, “If your stomach is grumbling and your mouth starts mumbling, there’s only one thing to keep your brain from crumbling!” he exclaimed, finally getting the molasses on the potatoes and taking a bite.

All around the room, the animals swayed happily to the beat as they added molasses to their own meals, much cheerier than before. All the while, the teenager kept singing, “Oh, potatoes and molasses, if you can’t see ‘em put on your glasses,” at this point, he put a pair of glasses on the deer’s face as it attempted to read sheet music while holding a trumpet, “They’re shiny and large, like a fisherman’s budge,” he sang, Wirt now smiling and tapping his spoon against his drink. It was a catchy tune, what could he say.

Behind the child, the gorilla slowly rose up in the open window, stopping only when one of the children, a pig, accidentally lobbed a spoonful of potatoes and molasses at his face, effectively knocking the beast back.

“You know you’ve eaten enough when you start eating stars! Oh, potatoes, and molasses,” at this point, the students had managed to pull out instruments of their own, playing along to Greg’s tune, “It’s the only thing left on your tusk list!” Greg waved his finger around the room, bouncing up and down to the beat.

“They’re short and stout they’ll make everyone shout!” he raised his spoon above his head, “For potatoes, and, molasses. For potatoes, and--”

“That’s enough!” an authoritarian voice cut-in, stopping Greg and the other students in their places.

Flinching back, Ms. Langtree looked to the imposing figure in the doorway, removing her hands from the piano, “Father!!

“Is this,” the broad-shouldered man pointed, sweeping his hand across the room, “what I’ve been paying for?”

“Hey! We just wanted to have a little fun,” Greg argued, shrugging his shoulders. There was nothing wrong with some good old fun, right? Besides, even Wirt had been getting into it! His little brother never got into it!

“I didn’t invest in this school for fun,” the old man crossed his arms, then marched over to where his daughter sat upon the piano stool. Shaking his fists, Mr. Langtree punched his right hand into his left, “I thought we were trying to do important work here! Teaching animals to count and spell,” he glanced over to a pig student, the poor child pulling his pants up again and again as they kept falling down.

“We are!” Ms. Langtree protested, “Oh! Please, father, don’t close the school! It won’t happen again,” she shook her head.

“I should say it won’t,” the grumpy old man said, walking further into the room. Grabbing the trumpet from the deer, “This,” then walking over to the kitten, “This,” and taking the tuba from the pig, “And this! Are all coming with me,” he grumbled, carrying the instruments in his grasp.

Turning to his daughter, the man yelled out, “Now send them to bed!”

“You heard father, off to bed with you,” the teacher ordered, holding one hand behind her back as she gestured towards the sleeping quarters.

In single file, the animals changed into their evening gowns and slumped off into bed, discouraged by the ruining of their fun. Wirt, Greg, and Beatrice followed behind, the two boys also changing into evening clothing and getting into one of the green covered beds.

The animals all moped in their beds, the raccoon even crying a bit. Greg watched all of this with a frown, wondering what he could possibly do the fix the situation. Looking to his frog, the teen spoke, “I just wanted to have fun, change the mood, and make it more fun for Wirt and everyone,” he gestured around the room, “But I just made everything worse.”

The frog gave a croak in response.

“Okay, Wirt, I’ll admit it. You seem like a pushover, but you’re not,” Beatrice began, sitting on the headboard near the child’s head. It had been a long day and she had been through more than she wanted to. Stubbornness be forgotten! Right now, she would rather get out of here and get this all over with.

“Oh?” the now hatless and very messy-haired boy questioned, smirking a bit.

“Deep down in your heart, you’re a stubborn jerk! When are you gonna give this up?” she exclaimed, waving her wings around in aggravation.

“Maybe never. Maybe I’ll never give this up,” Wirt replied, eyes narrowed. That had not been the response he had wanted.

Next to him, Greg looked curious, “Hmm, yeah!” he exclaimed, brightening up considerably. Hopping out of his bed, the teen turned to his brother and bird friend, “Wirt’s right! Never give up!” he threw his arms up. Taking the bed sheets, the larger boy tied together a rope, “Come on, Wirt. Let’s go save the day!” the male exclaimed, throwing the rope out and over the window, allowing for them to climb down.

“Okay, if you say so,” the other relented, ignoring Beatrice’s expression and hopping out of bed as well.

It didn’t take very long for the two to get dressed in their own clothing again. Following Greg down the rope and back into the woods, Wirt glanced around as his elder sibling spoke, “Come on!"

An owl hooted in the evening air, crickets and other insects playing their nightly tunes. Catching up a bit with his brother, the smaller child questioned, “So, what’s the plan, Greg?”

“...Plan?” the teen repeated, stopping his tracks and turning around. Oh, right. A plan. He had sorta forgotten that part of his rescue mission, “Oh…I don’t know--”

“Oh!” a voice cut-in, the voice of Mr. Langtree.

Eyes widening at the sound, Greg turned to follow the noise, Wirt continuing after him, “Huh?”

“Who’d have thought making a primary school for animals was a bad idea,” the man lamented, curling in on himself in the patch between the bushes, all of the instruments he had confiscated surrounding him. Wirt and Greg couldn’t help but gasp at the sight, though Wirt did need a little boost from his brother.

“My life savings, my home! Everything I had went into that dear, dear school,” the elderly gentleman sighed, “And now I’m forced to sell these instruments,” he picked up the trombone, “just to keep it open!” the man exclaimed to no one.

“All the while, that loathsome Jimmy Brown is off gallivanting who knows where,” Mr. Langtree growled, pulling off his large coat to reveal his small frame. Extending the trombone, the man held his coat up with the instrument and took his hat off, crawling under the meager canopy it offered, “Not to mention that wild gorilla on the loose.”

Letting out a sigh, the homeless fellow spoke on, “If only something would go right for a change…” then promptly fell asleep, snoring all the while.

At that, Greg got a sudden idea. Turning to his brother, the teen spoke, “Okay, I think he’s asleep. Let’s go steal his stuff.”

“What?” Wirt and Beatrice spoke at the same time, each with their own tone of disbelief. What was Greg thinking?

The next morning saw a sunrise as brilliant as the day prior. A drop of morning dew collected on the edge of a leaf, falling on the face of the sleeping elderly gentleman and waking him up. Blinking his tired eyes, the man glanced around him, letting out a shocked gasp at the sight of the missing instruments.

Shrugging the coat off his back, the old man sat up, “The instruments--they’ve been stolen!” he exclaimed, raising his arms up in lamentation.

“Who would do such a thing?” he questioned, crawling forward and through the bushes. Pushing aside the leaves, the old man gaped in confusion at the sight before him. A large crowd stood in front of a stage, the animal students playing the stolen instruments with skill.

Using one of the teapots from the schoolhouse, Greg went around collecting money from the onlookers, smiling at his large haul. Gold, silver, and bronze coins filled the appliance, and people were more than willing to continue dropping more into the overflowing pot. Up ahead, a whole wooden tub was filled with coins, the teen dropping the teapot’s money into the tub as well.

“What is this…?” Mr. Langtree questioned, coming up to Wirt as he leaned against a nearby tree and watched all of this take place, Beatrice sitting on a lower branch.

“It’s a benefit concert for the school,” the boy explained with a smile

“Ah, isn’t it grand?” the school’s teacher admired, holding her hands to her chest. Coming over to stand with Wirt, the girl smiled broadly, “All these fine people giving out of the goodness of their hearts. Oh, not like my Jimmy Brown,” she put her hands to her cheeks, the three listeners all frowning at the name.

“Oh, here we go,” the bluebird sighed, not looking forward to yet another musical number.

“All he ever did was steal my heart away,” Ms. Langtree sighed, not noticing as a large shadow came upon her.

“Gorilla!” Greg called out, pointing to the beast in hopes of warning the woman.

“Hah!” letting out a gasp, the brunette turned to stare in horror at the beast coming upon her.

“Young man, do something!” the old man turned to look at the small child he had been speaking to.

“Uh,” Wirt replied dumbly, deciding to just let his caution go to the wind and ran straight ahead at the creature. There wasn’t enough time to think! Running forward, the child tripped over his own shoelaces, still untied, and fell forward with a shocked yell. The force of the fall was enough to knock the gorilla over, and surprisingly, knock the gorilla’s head off!

Everyone gasped in shock at the sight, watching as a man seemingly inside the gorilla suit sat up. The fellow’s head was now clearly visible, and the blond reached up to pat at it, “Oh, finally!”

“Jimmy…?” Ms. Langtree watched in confusion, shocked by the fact her long-lost lover had suddenly appeared after such a long absence.

“That’s right, darling. I was the gorilla,” the man replied, placing a hand on his chest in identification.

“But...why did you do it?” she asked, looking confused by the revelation. What reason would her Jimmy have to dress up and scare her children?

“I got a job in the circus so’s I could finally buy you that wedding ring,” he explained, standing up to meet her, “But when I got stuck in the dang suit, everyone was too doggone scared to help me out.”

“Oh, Jimmy,” Ms. Langtree swooned, holding her hands on her cheeks, “Oh!”

“Darling,” the male replied, hugging his girl close with a smile. Finally they were reunited.

“Yay!” Greg cheered from the stage, a pair of squirrels attacking the detached gorilla head.

Wiping away a tear, the old man smiled at the scene, “I guess the world really is as sweet as potatoes and molasses,” he remarked with a warmed heart.

“Oh, potatoes and molasses!” Greg began again, the band following his cue as he went along with the song.

Turning to Beatrice, Wirt questioned, “So, want me to ask Greg if we can leave for Adelaide’s?”

“Nah, let him have his fun,” the bluebird replied easily.

In front of the stage, Mr. Langtree, Ms. Langtree, and Jimmy Brown all swung back and forth to the music, the other patrons enjoying the song as well. Greg conducted the band, looking happier than he had all day in his position.

“Hey, Wirt,” Beatrice spoke up, turning to look at her companion.

“Yeah?” the child asked, looking up at the other curiously.

“Tie your shoe,” she commanded, holding out her wing with the order.

“Hm?” the boy questioned, looking down at his feet. Oh, right, he still hadn’t tied his shoe! Bending down, Wirt replied, “Oh, mm, okay,” and got to work on his knots.

Beatrice couldn’t help the fond smile from appearing on her face.

 


End file.
